KJ's POV
The door to the apartment slams, sending Max into the room with me. He hugs to my legs and I pet him, numb with the release of emotion.
So this is what it feels like? When someone walks out in the middle of an argument?
With Layne gone I lay in bed, half waiting for her to return and half not knowing what else to do with her gone. After all, she had the keys. And the car. God, I hope her brother doesn't come back soon.
Suddenly I hear the jingle of keys in the door and jump up. Please no... I hear deep voices in the hall. Too deep to be Layne's. But definitely recognizable as Dil's. Fuck. I quickly close the door and dive into the closet.
"What do mean?" I know for sure that's Dil. But there's another voice. Actually three voices. One's a woman.
"Auntie I don't know when she'll be back she's grown."
"Well I don't agree with her living with that dyke!" she says harshly, "It's corrupting!"
Okay that's rough... I can only guess they're talking about me and Layne. That has to be her evil ass aunt.
"It's not like she's in the closet, Auntie....."
The voices grow quieter as they move towards the kitchen. Then I hear shuffling take place. Then the man's voice again, "Babe where's the dog?"
I realize that I'd grabbed Max in my panic, and he was now currently struggling against me. I open the door slightly, shoving him out the closet. Still, he turns back to me cocking his head and offering me a bark.
"Shut up before you get me shot!" I hiss at him. He thumps his tail against ground just as the door opens and I duck back into the closet.
I press closer and closer to the back of the closet, realizing how awful this will look if I'm caught.
I watch through the slates in the door someone approach and grab Max, "Who let you in here boy?"
The feet come closer and I hurry to cover myself with any loose piece of clothing. God pleaseGodpleasepleasepleasepleaseeeeeeeeeeee.....
The door cracks slightly and I hold my breath, praying for the first time in a long time. The door closes again and the feet retreat, Max's collar jangling behind them. Once the door to her room is closed again I exhale tensely.
Still, there's no way I can stay here. I stand crawl from the closet and make my way to the window, peering down. May cartoon gods protect me amen. I open the screen and drop down, landing less than perfectly in the bushes below. There's a cracking and popping noise as I hit, and I pray that it was the bushes and not one of my hands. I roll instinctively, as my body hits the ground with a thud. Fuck.
I honestly didn't think that it would hurt that much to jump out a window.
I stand and examine my hand, which hurts something awful. Upon further examination, it's the same hand I'd sliced open in school, the only reminisces a faded scar on my dominate hand. I curse one last time and call Beck, "Hey, kid? Are you off right now? I need you to come get me."
"Beck Blume at your service," he replies. I tell him the address, which isn't far from his apartment, and he comes to get me in about ten minutes. As suspected, when I make my way to the front of the complex, Layne's car is no where in sight. Fucking great. I shake off the hurt of her leaving and slide into his old convertible.
"Who's place is that?" he nods towards the apartment building.
"Layne's," I reply, "We came to pick up some of her things, got into a fight, and she stranded me."
"Wow," he blows out a breath, "Five years and not much has changed between y'all huh?"
"Shut up," I rest my head against the cool glass of his car, feeling a headache coming on. "Do you mind taking me home?"
"Are you sure you don't need a hospital?" he glances at my hand, which was starting to swell. I flex it, sending shocks of pain up my arm, but nothing to unbearable.
"I'll be fine. It's not broken."
He fusses over me for a few minutes until eventually agreeing to just that me home. Afterwards we make the long drive back to the house in near total silence. I get out of the car and drag myself upstairs, suddenly very tired. I wrap my hand in an ace bandage and take some pain killers before laying down.
I'm awoken seemingly seconds later to the front door slamming. Fuck is she still mad?
I sit up in bed just as Layne storms into the room, a box full of God knows what in her arms. She damn near throws it at me, causing me to jump, as if it's a bomb. It lands just short of me, not hitting me, "Layne what the fuck?" I groan, my voice sleep laden.
"Look in the fucking box," she orders me, "Go ahead. Do it."
"Is there a body in here?" I ask, trying to read her.
"Open the fucking box," she repeats. I hesitate, but do follow orders. I start pulling out things. Shirts. Shorts. My clothes. Even an old pair of my Vans.
"You're a piece of absolute shit sometimes, Kaylie Jane. But for some fucked up reason, I loved you so fucking much, I had enough of your shit in my house to start a fucking shrine," she exhales, "God you're so hard to love sometimes."
She throws a stack of envelopes at my head next and I automatically shield my face.
"Is this anthrax?" I question.
She picks up the stack and hits me again, "No they're letters dumb ass. You wrote me every single day I was in that fucking coma. You wrote to me, knowing damn well I might never wake up and be able to read them. And then you kept writing. Even when Dil told you to fuck off. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
I hesitate with my answer, scared to speak.
"Answer me!" she shouts.
"You don't gotta get loud," I raise my hands in defense, "I don't know why I kept writing to you, honestly. I guess I thought one day you'd remember me?"
"Because you loved me, right? Say it."
I hesitate.
"Kaylie Jane! What makes you so fucking hesitant?" She demands, "Why can't you look me in the eyes and answer me for once?"
"Because I told you! I'm fucking terrified!" I shout, "I'm scared shitless about loving you again. I'm scared I never stopped. There. I said it."
She shouts, "You could've said that! You don't think I'm scared? You think you're the only one vulnerable?" I can tell she wanted to hold them back, but the tears, "I lost my mom. I lost my memory. And every time I turn around it seems like I'm losing you too!"
I realize she's stops walking, taking several deep breaths, probably attempting to hold back tears.
"Layne--" I don't know what to say that I haven't said before. I've lied. I've broken promises. I say I won't be then I do anyway, "I understand if you don't believe me, but I'm sorry."
She looks ready to cry and I freeze, not sure why.
"Fuck!" she wipes away the tears, "Kaylie Jane you are so fucking hard to love sometimes. Yet I still love you. I love you. And I can't help it."
She breaks down and I watch in awkward silence. What am I doing to this woman? She's been through hell and back yet I'm the only tearing her apart?
She turns to me, "Fucking hold me or something?"
Her voice pulls me back to reality and I move to action, pulling her to my chest. "I'm sorry I'm a piece of shit," I whisper, stroking what's left of her hair. I let her cry it out, hating that she's hurting. Hating that she's hurting because of me. Hating myself because of what I'd willingly put this woman through. Twice now.
"I wish I could fix myself," I tell her, "So that I could love you better."
She dries her eyes and pulls away from me, kissing me lightly on the lips, "No. No. Baby don't ever think you need fixing. You aren't broken."
We clear off the bed, stretching out and getting comfortable. I pull her impossibly close, like I'm trying to force us into one person. She doesn't resist, pressing herself farther into me instead.
"Kaylie Jane?" she whispers.
"Yeah?"
"What happened to your hand?" she asks, having calmed down tremendously.
I laugh, finding it funny now that I'm safe, "I hurt it jumping out your window."
She giggles, "I'm sorry I left you today."
"I'm sorry I left you at all."
She takes my injured hand and kisses it, "This isn't the first time you've gotten hurt over me is it?"
"It's closer to the fourth time actually," I sigh, "Not counting the tattoos, of course."
"Maybe you're just accident prone," she says.
"Maybe you're just bad for me," I tease.
"Maybe I am," she moves so that we're facing each other, "But maybe you like that?"
"Maybe I do," I smirk, "Maybe you like me too?"
"Maybe," she kisses me and then goes back to laying in my arms silently.
"But maybe there's something you don't know about me?" I say tentatively. Today was a roller coaster, but today was also not over.
She sits up, "What do you mean?"
I reach into the nightstand next to me and hand her a black, leather bound, journal, "I need to tell you about the night of your attempt."
She stares at me, blank faced, "You're scaring me."
"I was there," I exhale, "I was fucking there."
"I was out with a girl- a friend- but a friend you didn't trust me with none the less. You were convinced we had a thing but I didn't listen. I think I wanted to prove something? I don't know but we were in a fight. The whole time we were out you kept calling and I didn't answer any of them. By the time I went by your place to check on you...."
"Layne!"
"I--- You didn't open the door for me so I let myself in to the apartment. Then I reached your room and--- I caught you--- I caught you with another girl."
Suddenly I feel transported back in time. I'm a kid again. I'm love, but very, very, stupid.
"Oh my God! Layne what the fuck?" the previous held concern I had was swept away by a sudden burst of anger.
"Kaylie Jane!" she laughed, cackles even, "Look who finally showed up."
I blinked, my eyes trying to make sense of what I'm looking at.
"Layne who is this?" the girl spoke, drawing my full attention. She blue hair looked greasy and her clothes fresh out someone's trailer park.
"Who am I?" I forced a dry laugh, my sanity slipping away, "I'm her fucking GIRLFRIEND! Out!"
The girl hesitates and I repeat, moving towards her, "Get. The fuck. OUT!"
"You heard her," Layne waves the girl out, seemingly pleased with herself. She bolts past me, successfully dodging the impending ass whopping headed her way.
"Bra-fucking-vo, Baby."
"Do you think this is funny?" I scream, "I was gonna come out for you! I wanted to be with you! And you're in here doing what? Fucking some piece of trash?"
"Hurts doesn't it?" she replies, approaching me. "Thinking someone you love is out cheating? Do you feel the betrayal? Do you understand now? By the way-- Come out to who? Everybody already knows you're gay." she laughs in my face and before I can stop myself my open palm connects with her cheek, slapping the smirk off her face.
"Hurts doesn't it?"
"You hit me?" Layne stares at me with horror in her eyes. I nod. Ashamed.
"What happened afterwards?"
"Your nose started bleeding. I thought it was because I hit you but they found traces of cocaine in your system. I went into the kitchen to get a towel and calm down. When I came back, and I swear I was only gone a few minutes, you'd hung yourself. I got you down and called the police, then I bolted. It was a bad look. I'm covered in your blood. Dead white girl. Black kid. I left."
"What's this, then?" she asks, holding up the notebook.
"Your suicide note to me," I reply, "I guess you had that other girl throw it in my truck on her way out. I didn't even see it until I crashed my truck later and they brought me my belongings."
I look at her for the first time since telling this story. "I have to go."
"Layne, wait!"
"You lied to me!" she screams at me, "I asked you time and time again what happened to me and you said you didn't know! I told you about the notebook and you said you never knew I journal'd! Since we met I told you I wanted your help becoming who I was and you said you'd help me!" tears begin to stream down her face as pulls away from me, "Fuck you!"
"It wasn't like that!" I shout back, "I wanted to protect you!"
"I'm tired of being protected!"
She storms out the room and I follow her, "Let me explain!"
"I'm SO fucking sick of everyone's explanations! I don't want to know! I don't care! I want something to be about me! Just for once!"
She takes off and for the second time today, I don't follow her.